Phantom Queen (1)
by Gossamer Glass Jellyfish
Summary: Clark Kent is born a girl and raised in a traditional household. She is, of course, not exactly traditional herself. FemClark. Mainly Smallville based, but is basically DC compatible. Covers Superwoman's formative years. Part one of a series that will eventually crossover with Nolan's and Bale's Batman.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note_ : I do have permission to use the cover image for this story. It was made by Loui Jover, who is a wonderful artist. Go check out his work.

* * *

Phantom Queen

Book One

1.

I was on my laptop, curled up on the checkered blanket on my bed that morning before school, doing two different things at once. In my hands, I was working idly on a project for the high school robotics team I was on. But pulled up on the computer screen was what I considered research. I scanned through the news headlines.

Record Breaking Teen Becomes Fastest Man Alive

Six-year-old Korean boy lifts car off injured father

Why were they all men? Surely women must accomplish feats like this as well. Unconscious bias, perhaps, on the part of the reporters?

The subject was especially close to my heart for a couple of reasons. First, because I was a reporter for my high school newspaper The Torch. I wrote weekly political opinion articles, and held strong views on many school social issues. I was also a feminist and a gay rights supporter and I often went to political rallies in Metropolis, the nearest big city, much to the dismay of my rural conservative father.

But I had a second, bigger reason for caring passionately about what I was seeing on the computer screen, and that was because I was a girl and I could do many of these incredible feats of speed and strength myself.

I called it my mutation. It had appeared early on when I was a child. I could run so fast I was a mere blur and a gust of wind to the regular humans I passed. This supposed world record was to me a bit of a joke. I also had amazing strength - I could weight lift tractors.

No one knew about it except my parents, who accepted me and loved me anyway but had taught me to hide my powers from the outside world. They were afraid that if I was found out, the government would come cart me away to be experimented on in some lab. Or, worse, that the world would alienate me and be frightened of me because of my "gifts." (My Dad's word. Every Thanksgiving, I had to say I was thankful for the powers I was born with. Even if I didn't really mean it.)

Anyone close to me knew this potential fear was ridiculous. I'd been raised a Christian in a small country town, and at heart I was a true farmer's girl. I was shy, somewhat awkward, and very eccentric, but I was no killer. My powers aside, I was just some normal teenage girl. I fought with my parents, I had a crush on a cute guy, I had three best friends and a snotty popular girl who hated my guts.

I was normal on the outside. But sometimes I felt so separated from everybody else that I wished I was normal on the inside, too.

Because of this, unbeknownst to my parents, I had started doing research, trying to find hints of other people with abilities like mine out there in the big wide world. I had turned to the Internet. And so far? A lot of nothing. I sped-read through about ten articles each morning (another weird ability I had) and I had come up with a few men or boys who were unusually strong or fast for normal humans or who had done weird things in fits of adrenaline.

And that was about it.

Were they hiding like I was? Surely I couldn't be the first human born with this mutation, or the only one. The very prospect of such aloneness frightened me.

"Morrigan Autumn Kent, you're going to be late for school!" my mother called up the stairs, startling me. I checked the clock - shit.

"Coming, Mom!" I called, and started gathering my stuff together from around my room, which was decorated in rock band posters and astronomy star charts. I took my electric guitar to school with me, and I stuffed my gameboy and about five different books for extracurricular reading into my bulging black backpack - an eclectic mix of poetry, philosophy, classical literature, contemporary literature, and death and the occult.

And then I was ready. The important things were all there.

Yeah, my name was Morrigan Autumn Kent. Weird name, right? My parents picked it because they'd adopted me from a Metropolis charity when I was three, on a date pretty close to Halloween. Morrigan was alternately an ancient goddess of war who took the form of a crow - our Smallville town symbol - and a monster in female form. That was right, they'd named me after a crow monster, just like any loving parents would. On a cooler note, Morrigan also meant "phantom queen" in Irish Gaelic. Autumn was, of course, similarly Halloween themed.

All complaints aside, I had to admit, it had a certain ring to it. "Morrigan Kent." It fit. It was just bizarre enough to be kind of cool. No one else had that name. I was still coming to terms with the idea that sometimes, even when it came to forced gratefulness over Thanksgiving dinners, my parents did in fact know what they were doing.

I went downstairs into the kitchen - checkered curtains, a hutch full of antique china, honey wood, and sunny yellow and white color shades - and began gathering together the ingredients to make oatmeal with little pieces of cut up fruit put into it.

"What on earth are you wearing?!"

I winced as my Mom's voice came from behind me, and turned slowly around. The question was rhetorical, because my Mom could see plainly what I was wearing. That was the problem. "What are you wearing?" meant "Don't wear that."

I was dressed up in black combat boots, black lacy hose, a tiny dark skirt, and a black blouse that just squeezed past the dress code standards.

I thought the outfit looked good on me. I was tall, slim, rangy, and elegant with pale skin, brunette hair tied up in a clip at the back of my head, and blue eyes. The color black suited me, as did the body revealing clothing. "I thought I looked good," I protested feebly.

"You know that's not the problem. Morrie, you can't wear that to school," said my mother, flabbergasted. "It's inappropriate!"

"But Mom, it makes me look hot," I complained.

"Who are you trying to impress?" My Mom became canny.

"Why do I have to be impressing someone?" I said, straightening and lifting my chin. "Why can't I just want to look nice for me?"

"Honey, a girl only dresses like that for one reason, and it's to impress someone." My Mom's hands were on her hips. "Now fess up. Who is it?"

I glared at her for a moment - and then slumped. "Okay, so there's this boy. His name's Justin. He's an artist. And he's this pretty boy with messy brown hair and beautiful dark eyes, and he's kind of perfect, and - And I really want to look good for him. I want to seem cool," I admitted.

My mother chuckled. "You know, if he's the right guy for you, you shouldn't have to dress up to impress him. That should happen on its own."

"Mom, did you ever even go to highschool?" I asked disbelievingly. "Do you not remember what high school boys are like?"

"I remember all too well. That's why I'm worried," said my mother flatly. She went to the coffee pot. "I warned you to change, so I'm not to be blamed when your father comes in here. Is this why you wanted that waitressing barista job at The Beanery in town? So you could afford to buy clothes like that?"

"... Maybe," I muttered. My mother looked amused. She wasn't the one I had to worry about.

Speaking of which, just as I was sitting down at the table for breakfast, my father came into the farmhouse, dusty and fresh from work in the fields. "Well, good afternoon, sleepyhead -" he began teasingly, and then he stopped, staring at me. "What the hell happened to my little girl?" were the first words out of his mouth.

I winced again. My parents were still living in an age that had ended years ago - the age when I was my mother's little helper cooking and baking in the kitchen, and my father's little tomboy who went on fishing trips with him.

"She grew up and started going to highschool and decided she wanted to impress some boy," said my mother in amusement, handing Dad his morning cup of coffee.

"Morrigan, you are going back up there to change, because you are not dating until you are at least thirty." My Dad pointed at me.

"Dad, that is an overprotective misogynistic view of women as delicate possessions who can't make decisions for themselves and need to be saved from grossly stereotyped men -" I began loudly, and my father rolled his eyes and sat down at the table with his coffee.

"Oh, forget it," he muttered.

"So, I guess this would be a bad time to ask you if I could play roller derby up in Metropolis," I hypothesized.

"You guess right." My father glared at me. "Morrie, you could lose control and hurt someone. We've already have this conversation."

"Alright, alright, I get it," I sighed. Little known to my parents, I had already lied about my age and signed up for adult roller derby up in Metropolis. I lied and said I had extra shifts at work, then speed ran up there and back twice a week after school. I was the Raven Crush.

And I hadn't hurt anybody. My control was perfect. If I could play an instrument without breaking it, I could do roller derby without killing anybody. My parents were just paranoid. There was a frightened lack of trust in my ability to control my own powers there, hidden underneath the surface.

"Now, don't forget, I have class tonight, so you two are on your own," said my mother sternly. She was taking night classes at the local Smallville community college. "Morrigan, make dinner for your father so he doesn't order pizza, okay?" she added despairingly.

"Will do. We might have to eat a little late. I won't be home till after work," I said.

"I can wait," said Dad. "I have some things in the barn I want to finish up anyway."

Suddenly, a horn honked from outside. "You'll be late!" my Mom said, and I grabbed my backpack and ran at low speeds out the front door, to the two cars parked in front of my house. Whitney's held Whitney, Lana, Emily, and Chloe, while Dustin's held Dustin and Pete.

Lana, Emily, and Chloe were my best friends. Whitney, Dustin, and Pete were their respective boyfriends. I was the only one who was still single. Don't even talk to me about how depressing that was.

"Whoa, how did you get that outfit past your parents?" said Chloe, grinning, as I swung myself into the car.

"I pleaded with my Mom for sympathetic mercy and gave my Dad a feminist rant," I said, putting down my stuff and straightening. "Like a pro."

Emily laughed. "Nice, I'm impressed," said Chloe, amused.

"Hey, Kent. When are you going to fix up that hunk of junk and stop hitching rides from me?" Whitney asked from the driver's seat.

"Do not insult my baby!" I said heatedly. I had a broken down old Mustang out near the barn that I was still working on fixing up - also bought in part by my waitressing money. I'd gotten it for cheap from a neighbor who wanted to get rid of it. My ultimate goal was to rid myself of the embarrassment and dependency inherent in someone else having to drive me everywhere. "He is a work in progress!"

"He? You're in love with your car? I thought you were in love with Gaines," said Whitney, as we drove past the corn fields in a cloud of dust toward Smallville's main center.

"I'm in love with both of them," I said firmly. "It's complicated, okay?"

"Isn't all love complicated?" Lana laughed. "I can feel you, Morrigan."

Lana had been my first childhood friend. We were neighbors and we'd discovered that I was allergic to the green meteor rock inside her favorite necklace. Her parents had died in a meteor shower that had hit town twelve years ago, and she'd stopped wearing the necklace she remembered them by just to protect me. Later, we'd had many conversations in front of her parents' graves about what it was like being an orphan.

Still, even with all that, only my parents called me Morrie.

Lana had in turn introduced me to Emily. I'd saved Emily and Lana from drowning one day and that had cemented our friendship. I'd been the one assigned to show Chloe around school when she moved to Smallville in junior high. Chloe had wanted to see my farm because she was a Metropolis City girl and she'd thought she was moving to a town full of Amish people, and we'd discovered at my home that we had too much in common not to become friends.

"I'm just amazed you managed to figure out how to work the thing by yourself," Emily commented, referring to my car.

"Don't congratulate me, my baby doesn't run yet," I said dryly. "After doing mechanical engineering with the robotics team, fixing up a car is not that hard. Especially with my Dad to help me. I mean, he works on tractors all the time, you know? It's something we can do together."

"Guess so," Emily admitted.

We got to school and stood around in front of the main building, talking before homeroom. Pete and Chloe were planning on going vintage to the homecoming dance, Whitney hadn't finished his English paper till two AM the night before it was due, Pete was trying out to become a jock to avoid the yearly Scarecrow freshman boy hazing ritual even though Dustin and Whitney assured him it would never happen to one of their friends.

Dustin and Whitney were both already jocks. Pete was a bit of a nerd. Chloe was Torch editor with a future in investigative reporting, Lana was an artsy cheerleader, and Emily was a science geek.

"Hey, speaking of the homecoming dance…" Chloe pointed behind me. I turned around and there he was: Justin Gaines. He smiled in a friendly sort of way and said hi to someone on his way past them. Messy brown hair fell into dark eyes and he smiled, and there was his slim body underneath his sweatshirt, and everything inside me just tingled.

"Go! Go!" Lana and Whitney were the traitors who pushed me forward, directly into Justin's path. I stumbled in surprise, righting myself.

"Hey, Kent, you okay?" Justin laughed, grabbing me by the shoulders and straightening me.

"Uh - yeah, thanks. Hi, Justin." I could feel the warmth of his hands from over my shirt; he removed them. I curled a strand of hair back behind an ear, clutched my morning schoolbooks, sighed, blushed and smiled. I probably looked like an idiot. "How - how's your latest piece for The Torch coming along?"

It was how we'd met. Justin drew comics for the same school paper I wrote opinion pieces for. He was insanely nice, really artistic, very smart, and he read romance novels. What more could a girl ask for?

"Oh, it's coming. It's not perfect yet." He shrugged, smiling.

"I'm sure it's great," I said, smiling back. "So -?"

Just then, Felice Chandler, head of the drama club, swooshed perfumed blonde hair on her way past us with her posse. "Hey, Kent. Trying to look cool, are we? That's simply adorable," she simpered. "Must be hard for someone as ugly as you." Her posse giggled.

And then she was gone, leaving me humiliated in her wake. The moment with Justin had passed.

The horrible part was, Felice Chandler envied me. Lana had told me once that all the popular girls hated my ability to be my weird, unique self. They got all the guys, but I in turn supposedly had something they could never attain. Felice just handled it worse than the others.

This idea didn't contain very much comfort in the face of daily embarrassment, uncoolness, and fear.

"Hey - don't worry about her," Justin told me as they left. "No one likes Chandler anyway."

I tried to smile. "Thanks," I said.

Then Whitney and Dustin stuck out their legs and tripped her and Felice fell flat on her face on the ground.

"Oops. Trying to walk correctly, are we, Chandler? That's simply adorable. Must be hard for someone as stupid as you," said Chloe. Felice flushed, her eyes narrowing, and she whipped her head back to glare at me. Justin laughed and I smiled despite myself. I would never use my powers against anyone, so it felt good, in some weird way, knowing I had friends who would defend me in the face of Felice.

Just then, the bell rang for homeroom.

"See you later, Morrigan," said Justin, and before I could say anything else, he'd walked away. I opened my mouth stupidly after him. For the hundredth time, I'd missed my chance to hint at the homecoming dance. I was too hesitant and shy. Even had the genders been switched, I was unsure if I'd have had the courage to make a move.

* * *

Work at The Beanery in town after school was busy, as usual. I was a good waitress - quiet, always calm even on the busiest nights, with a dry sense of humor, good at remembering orders. It helped that I was already hardworking; growing up on a farm will do that to you.

The Beanery was a combined cafe and coffee place, so I had to take all the coffee orders, then make them myself and bring them back to the tables. I was an all purpose serving girl. The only thing I didn't do was cook the food.

"Morrigan, you really have to let me do your nails again later," said Zoe, my fellow waitress and a community college student with shots of purple in her ponytail of blonde hair, as she was standing making coffee beside me. "And some hair dye wouldn't hurt either."

"I can always count on you, Zoe, to be the friend who makes me feel better about my own appearance." I was kidding. Zoe was the one who had helped me shop for my current outfit, so obviously I listened to her a little more than I let on.

"Just trying to help," said Zoe in a cheerful sing-song voice, and before our manager - who also had dyed hair and was extremely bossy and a little bit fiery - could scold her, she took her coffees over to table six.

It helped to look a little alternative at The Beanery. It was filled with couches, armchairs, poufs, and beanbags set around little tables, and on weekends live local bands played. So the combat boots and lacy black hose underneath my waitressing uniform did not necessarily look out of place.

At the end of my shift, Zoe was just ending hers and heading out to her car, which was parked along Main Street. "You need a lift?" she asked.

"Nah, I have to get to the grocery store to buy the materials for dinner," I said. "Plus I enjoy the walk home. But thanks anyway."

I often wondered, later on, what would have happened if I'd taken Zoe's ride instead.

* * *

I took the shortcut through the woods on the edge of town near the Indian reservation, and stopped in the middle of the trees, putting my backpack, guitar, and groceries (chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, nothing fancy) beside me, staring from the bridge out over the bubbling crushing river crested with white foam. I was calm and at peace. Except for some homework - always easy for me with my physical and mental speed - and except for dinner, I was done for the day.

I thought about Justin. I thought about my research project into my powers. I thought about my newfound tension with my parents. I thought about Felice's bullying. So many books were still left open for me, but I would work on them. My life had a kind of routine to it, and there was no reason to think that would ever be disrupted.

There was a vroom and a screech of tires and I looked around.

Some city boy in a fancy sports car was driving too fast down a back road known to be littered with debris, staring down at his cell phone as he drove. Just as I looked around, he looked up, saw a piece of debris in the road, swerved to avoid it, drove right over it anyway, the car went out of control, and he hit me where I was standing stunned in the bike lane.

I just saw a shot of his panicked face and blue eyes before I was flung through the railing and into the water below. I had mind enough to gulp a huge breath of air right before I hit the water. I felt the car fall in after me.

I could see it sinking through the murky gloom, bubbles coming out of the unconscious man's mouth, airbags inflated like balloons. It did not occur to me yet that I was unharmed. Only that the man in the driver's seat was about to die, and I could save him.

I swam over to the car, peeled the roof back like the lid of a tin can, broke the seatbelt apart, grabbed the man under his armpits, and swam upward with him until we hit open air. I gasped open wet oxygen into my lungs; the man I was carrying did not.

I swam with him against the current over to the shore, dragging him up onto the muddy embankment. He was a pale, ghostly whitish-blue, unbreathing, a cut in his face where he'd hit the dashboard right before the airbag had inflated. I felt his head gently. There didn't seem to be a fracture or concussion. His neck wasn't broken. He was completely bald, wearing dark casual dress clothes, shiny black shoes, and black leather driving gloves. He was tall, trim, and fit, the kind of well-cared-for that hinted at money.

I pumped his chest and breathed into his mouth, over and over again, applying CPR, trying to get him to breathe again. I'd taken several first aid and CPR classes. Everyone thought I'd go into either mechanical engineering, political journalism, or obscure classical literature, but I'd always wanted to be a nurse. I'd never told anyone because it didn't fit with the kind of persona I tried to give off at all. A country Christian farmer girl who went on to become a nurse; how cliche was that? First time the lessons had ever come in handy. I pushed, breathed into his mouth, pushed, breathed into his mouth. It wasn't working. Dared I push harder, I wondered clinically? I might break a couple of his ribs.

At last, figuring having broken ribs was better than being dead, I gave a determined pound on his chest.

His eyes flew open and he choked up water, gasping for air. He rolled over onto his side, coughing up water, and I rubbed his back soothingly. "Breathe," I said. "You're okay." He rolled over, and I helped him sit up. "Are you dizzy at all? Blurry vision? How do your ribs feel? Can you move around?"

"I - I think I'm fine," he managed. Well, damn. That was a miracle.

Only then did it occur to me how crazy the past few minutes had been. I had reacted so calmly, it was a little strange. Like I'd already done it a million times before - saved people, I mean.

The man looked over at me, and I saw surprise and something else pass across his face. He gave me the up-and-down - my body got the once-over treatment. I was soaking wet and my clothes hadn't left much to the imagination to begin with. He seemed to have a working penis. The problem was, he had to be in his late twenties.

"You saved me," he said, which was obvious by this point. Then: "Didn't I hit you?"

"No, I jumped out of the way in time and then went into the water after you," I lied on reflex. "If you'd hit me, I'd be -" And that was when realization hit me. I looked backward at the gnarled remains of the bridge railing. My back had done that. "I'd be dead," I realized.

I thought of the broken seat-belt, the torn-off roof of the car, the panicked expression on the man's face and the way he realized he'd hit me right before he blacked out. Shit. I was totally unharmed. Shit shit shit shit shit.

A crueler person might have thought that I should have let him die, but despite all my sharp wit and disillusioned observations and budding teenage-ness, that thought didn't occur to me until years later. And even then I didn't really mean it.

"So how old are you and how old are you supposed to be?" I turned back to look at the man, who seemed to have recovered his sense of sarcasm. Right now, at least, he was taking my story at my word, perhaps because it had all happened so fast and he'd hit his head so hard that he didn't really believe in himself. "Because you're either sixteen or you're thirty and I can't tell which."

"Fifteen, twenty-three, in that order," I said brusquely, standing.

"Got it," he said, amused. That seemed to mean to him that I was to be looked at respectfully and was completely hands-off. He stopped staring at my cleavage. So I hadn't saved a total dick.

"You stay here," I said. "I'm going to go get my cell phone and call an ambulance. Your head is still bleeding and I'll be very surprised if I didn't break at least one of your ribs."

"Really?" He seemed surprised.

"You nearly died," I said flatly. "I had to pound on you to wake you up."

"I… felt safe the entire time. Protected," he admitted. He seemed a little dazed. Maybe he did have a concussion.

"Wait here," I commanded, and trudged through the sludge toward my cell phone in the backpack up on the bridge.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

The paramedics checked me over for injuries when they arrived, then wrapped me up in a shock blanket and set me off to the side while they swarmed around the driver. Police and ambulances were all there by this time, and the ruined car was in the process of being pulled out of the river by machinery.

"Morrie!" My Dad's old truck screeched to a halt by the side of the road and he ran down the embankment to meet me. "Sweetie, are you alright?" he asked, putting his hands to my face and looking me over in concern.

"I'm fine, Dad, I'm okay," I said.

My father whirled around to the nearest policeman. "Who was the maniac who was driving that car and hurt my little girl?!" he demanded angrily.

"That would be me." We turned around to find the bald driver had walked up and put out a hand. "Lex Luthor."

My father wasn't the only one who was surprised. Lex Luthor? He was the son of the head of Luthor Corp, Lionel Luthor. Lex was a Metropolis city boy. Got in the news a lot for drunken shenanigans and fancy car wrecks. I'd heard rumors that he'd been banished here to take over Luthor Corp's Smallville fertilizer plant, but…

My Dad gave Lex an extremely ugly look. He did not take the hand. I was surprised - I had never seen my father so unpleasant.

Lex lowered the hand, but continued looking at my father, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm Jonathan Kent," my father forced out at last, with the barest measure of civility. "This is my daughter." He turned to me, wrapped me up in his coat, and started leading me off toward the truck.

Lex Luthor started walking beside me. "Thank you," he said, "for saving my life."

My father stiffened, but I could handle myself. "I did what anyone should have done," I said simply. "No thanks is necessary."

"What you did was extraordinary. If there's any way I can repay you -" Now he sounded unctuous. He felt he had to give me something to appease me.

I turned around. "There is no debt," I said. "I don't need your money, Lex." He stared after me as I walked off.

"Mr Kent," I heard him begin from behind me, "is there any way I can -?"

"Repay me by driving slower," my father said brusquely, and he followed me to the truck.

* * *

I retreated to my Fortress that night. Well, that was what my Dad called it. In reality, it was a loft he'd built for me up above the barn. Someplace to be when I wanted to hang out with friends, or just be alone. My Fortress of Solitude, he said jokingly.

It had cinder-block shelves, bright pop-up art graphics on the walls, a second-hand couch that folded out into a sofa bed, and a coffee table. By the back window, looking out over open, starry night sky and fields, was an old fashioned telescope I'd inherited from my father. I used it to stargaze some nights. If I'd been a poet or a painter I could have rendered that view in magnificent detail, but as it was I had to content myself with enjoying the quiet awe that it always filled me with.

But tonight I was distracted. I glanced through the telescope. Looked to the pictures. Looked to the couch. Looked to the shelves.

And everywhere I looked I thought: I should be dead. I should be dead. I should be dead.

Invulnerability. Another weird thing to add to the list. Could anything kill me?

What was happening to me?

* * *

My friends congratulated me on my big save the next day at school. I got lots of whispers as I passed in the halls. Chloe insisted I was a celebrity - a real hero, saving the richest and most famous person in town.

I got home, and there was a brand new, authentic Mustang - shiny, perfect, and restored - in the driveway. "Whoa!" I said in amazement, running over to check it out. "Hey, Mom, whose car is this?!" I called out to my mother, who was working away in her garden nearby.

She stood, dusted herself off, and handed me a card. "Yours. It's a gift from Lex Luthor. It came with this."

The card was fancily monogrammed in purple, decorated with the initials LL. Inside was a hand-written, personally signed note.

Dear Morrigan,

I know you don't need my money, but I thought I'd offer it anyway. It's the least I can do. I heard you have a thing for the old fashioned. Drive safely.

Forever in your debt,

The Maniac in the Porsche

"This is amazing!" I squealed, for once openly delighted. "Where are the keys?!" I looked up wildly - and my Mom seemed cautious.

"Your father has them," she said, wincing and nodding to where my Dad was working angrily away at the wood-chipper out in the barn.

Uh-oh.

I walked over to my Dad, who saw me coming and sighed, turning everything off and taking off his ear protectors and goggles. "I know how much you want it, Morrie," he said. "But you can't keep it."

I became reserved to hide my disappointment and anger. "Why not?" I asked bitingly.

"Morrie, we're still going to fix up your old Mustang -" my father tried.

"Why. Not."

"Because the Luthors are crooks!" my Dad shouted, losing it. "Do you remember Mr. Bell? We used to go fishing on his property? How about Mr. Guy? He used to send us pumpkins every Halloween. Well, Lionel Luthor promised to cut them in on a deal. He sent them flashy gifts, just like this one. Only once they sold him their property, he went back on his word. He had them evicted."

"Your father is right," said my mother, coming up behind me. "We've known the Luthors to blackmail people who have done them kindnesses in this town. They're bad sorts. They can't be trusted."

"So both Lex and his father have done these things?" I confirmed.

"... No," my father admitted at last. "Lex doesn't run anything. It's all been Lionel."

"So you're judging Lex based on what his father did," I said flatly.

"Morrigan, you're being a little naive," said my mother, unimpressed. "Who exactly do you think taught Lex all his business practices?"

"But not everyone turns out like their parents, or even likes their parents!"

"Do you want to take that chance?" my father asked.

"Well I'm not saying he's a saint. He's paying us off so we don't sue him. It's not like he's just doing it out of the kindness of his heart -"

"Where the hell do you think the money came from that bought that car, then?!" my Dad shouted, pointing at it. "Do you think it came from Lex or any of his work?! Who did it come from?!"

I couldn't answer, my jaw tight. Because my father was right. It came from Lionel.

"Morrigan, I think you may have to face up to the idea that the only reason you're defending Lex so heatedly is because you want the car," said my mother evenly. "You don't even know him."

"We'll fix up the old Mustang and return this one," said my father. "End of discussion."

I stood there, fists clenched, silent for a moment. "... I think you're mistaking my idealism for greed," I said at last. "But if you want to return the car, go ahead. You're my legal guardians; you can do whatever you want."

The tone was cold and disdainful, a physical reminder that they were not my biological parents. They flinched. I turned to walk stiffly up the stairs to my loft.

At last, my father softened. "Sweetie, I know you're upset," he said. "But it's normal -"

And that was what made me snap. The buzz word. Normal.

"No, Dad!" I yelled wildly, whirling back. "The point is that I'm not normal! Do you have any idea what it's like, knowing I may never be able to have sex with a human man without fear of losing control and hurting him?! Knowing I can do better and never being able to?! Knowing that if people knew the truth about me they'd see me as a freak?! Wondering why the hell God made me the way I am?!

"I'm not normal! I'm in this situation because I'm not normal! And for the first time I'm being congratulated, because that was a good thing, and now you're taking that away from me!"

My parents looked pained.

"What about this?!" I'd lost my head completely. "Is this normal?!" I ran over, turned the wood chipper on, and stuck my arm in. A dull thunking grated against my arm, not even painful, and then the wood chipper made a great whirring noise and broke.

"Morrigan! No!" My parents had run over, pulled out my arm - and it was totally unharmed.

"I didn't dive in after Lex's car," I said heatedly. "It hit me at over sixty miles an hour. Does that sound normal to you? I'd give anything to be normal."

I walked toward the loft. "Morrigan," my Mom called after me. "Would you like the truth?" All of a sudden, she sounded tired.

I turned back, pausing, confused. "Yeah," I said. "Some truth would be nice. But about what?"

"The day of the meteor shower twelve years ago, it was close to Halloween. Everyone in your age group was three years old, which means you would have been as well." The age of three. When I'd been adopted. "We were driving by open fields when the meteors hit. One landed in front of our truck. It flipped over and we were knocked out. When we woke up, you were standing there next to our truck, looking at us. You were a little toddler girl, completely naked. We'd never even seen you before.

"We wrapped you up in blankets and started walking around in the aftermath, trying to figure out where you'd come from. And we - we found a spaceship," she admitted. "A little pod, large enough only for one child.

"The meteor shower was bringing you."

I struggled to comprehend this. "But - but the adoption papers -"

"They were forged," said my father. "Three was the age of your neighbor, little Lana Lang, so that was the number we picked." He reached into his pocket, and took out a metallic tablet wrapped in cloth. I took it. Strange geometric writing was carved vertically into it. "You came with this," my father said. "We've tried to decipher it for years. But it's not written in any language known to man."

"... Prove it to me," I said at last, my eyes wide.

And so, in the dusky shadows, they took me down into the storm cellar and pulled off a piece of tarp covering what I'd always thought was a broken piece of machinery in the corner. It really was a metal pod - with little front wings for steering.

I started backing up. The green meteor rock allergy. I'd killed Lana's parents. All those people had died because of me. I was a freak. I was an alien.

The idea of aloneness filled me again. No. No. No.

"Why - why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" I gasped out.

"We wanted to protect you -" my father began.

"Protect me from what?!" I snapped. I felt like a cornered snake.

"From this," my mother said loudly, giving me a hard look. "This feeling you're experiencing right now. But Morrigan - you're destined for great things. I wish you could see that." She gazed at me sympathetically.

Tears filled my eyes. I was an alien. That was all I could process. I was a humanoid alien. More than that, I was the only alien. I was alone.

I speed ran away, leaving my parents' figures behind me.

* * *

I went to Justin's house. I wasn't sure why. I just started running, running away from everything, and my feet led me to their own place.

I ended up in front of Justin's house, knocking on the door that night. His mother opened the door, and stared at me in surprise. "You're the Kents' daughter," she said.

I can't imagine what my face looked like. I was pale, wide-eyed, almost physically, viscerally ill. "Yeah," I said. "Is - is Justin in? I'd like to talk to him about something."

Justin came down and we sat alone on his front porch. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

I opened my mouth, and realized I had no idea what to say. I worked on it for a while and then said, my voice choked up, "I learned something about my parents tonight. My - my biological parents."

"I didn't even know you were adopted," he said, surprised. "What did you learn?"

"I don't want to talk about it. But I - I just needed to be with someone -" My voice was jerking, halting.

He nodded, somewhat uncomfortable. "Okay." And we sat in silence. I was thinking maybe I'd made a mistake, coming here.

And then I just came out with it. "Justin - when you're an orphan - you spend a lot of time wondering what life would have been like if, you know. If they were still here. If you would have felt normal. If you would have been happy. I just - feel like my life was supposed to be something different. I… I mourn the life I don't have. I'm alone." Tears had filled my voice again. "I'm completely alone."

Justin leaned in and hugged me. "No, you're not," he said quietly. And for a moment some of the terrible weight inside me lessened. I relaxed into his body heat. A few tears leaked into his shirt and he hugged me tighter.

We sat like that for a while.

"I've always really liked you, Justin," I whispered. I hadn't even meant to say it. But he turned down to look at me in surprise.

I straightened, gasping, blushing. "I - I mean -"

But he was laughing softly. "Seriously?" he said. "I thought I was the one who liked you. I didn't think you'd ever really noticed me. You kind of give off that vibe of being completely independent of anyone."

"I could never not notice you, Justin," I said, smiling shyly.

"You know," he said, "you're kind of adorable when you're embarrassed." He sounded amused. I blushed and smiled bigger. "Hey," he said, "... do you want to go to the homecoming dance with me?"

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. My heart thundered in my chest.

"... Yes!" I said breathlessly, ecstatic.

And suddenly having to return Lex's car didn't seem so bad anymore. The guilt and loneliness were still there… but they had lessened.

* * *

I went quietly back to my house that night. My parents were waiting up in the kitchen. They stood when I arrived -

"Why did you take me?" I asked. "Tell me that. You find an alien child. Why keep it and hide it from harm?"

"... We'd always wanted a child, but had never been able to have one," said my mother. "And you were just so small and alone and helpless - it felt like fate." She shrugged.

"We love you, Morrigan," said my father. "You have to know that."

"... I do," I admitted. "I do know that." And I went forward and hugged them.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

I knew the Luthors had a huge house built in Smallville and I knew where it was, but by God was I not prepared when I drove up to it.

Huge gates, monogrammed with the Luthor symbol and accompanied by a buzzer, cut off the property from everything around it. Within were beautiful, intricate gardens, with everything from a fountain to specially shaped hedges. The mansion was a medieval Scottish stone castle, long and rambling.

I sat there within the rumbling Mustang in awe for a moment, wondering if I even should have come here at all. But I didn't just want to leave the car and insult Lex. So I leaned over and rang the buzzer. Paused. Rang it again. Nobody answered.

He'd just moved here. Maybe his full staff wasn't available yet?

I sat there in the car, wondering what to do. At last, gathering up my courage, I turned the car off, shut the door and locked it, and squeezed through the bars of the gate. I walked up the gardens, expecting to be accosted by security or something at any moment, but no one was there. The mansion was a ghost town.

I went up to the big oak front door and knocked. No one answered. I was just going to open the door, when a voice sounded from behind me. "What are you doing here?!"

I whirled around. A blonde teenage girl with a bit of a Goth look was standing there. She looked around my age. There was an older boy skulking behind her.

"You're the new kid at school," I realized in surprise. "You're Amy Palmer. And that must be your brother Jeff."

"That's right. And you're trespassing on Luthor grounds," she said, scowling, hands on her hips. She was nowhere near as scary as my boss; joke was on her.

"So are you," I reminded her.

"I live here," she said snobbishly. "My family lives in the servant's quarters. Now who are you and what are you doing here?!"

"I'm here to return something Lex Luthor gave me," I said. "I didn't just want to return it without explaining and insult him."

Amy's eyes widened. "You're the girl who saved him," she said. "Morrigan Kent."

"Guilty," I admitted.

Amy looked torn for a moment. "Look, I'm glad you saved him," she said. "And I wish I could have been there to do it myself. But you should know. Lex Luthor would never be interested in someone like you. He deserves far better." She had an all-business sort of aura to her.

"Deserves…? Wait, you think I'm coming onto him?" I asked disbelievingly. "I'm fifteen! He's not even in college anymore!"

"So you're not interested in him?" she grilled me.

"No!"

"I wouldn't blame you. He's a very handsome man."

"No - well - yes, I guess - I hadn't really thought of it that way - But look! He's just some guy I saved! It's not a crime to save somebody's life, is it?" I challenged. "Because if that's a crime, I'm guilty. I was just going to return the gift, explain politely why I can't take it, and leave."

Amy glared at me suspiciously for a moment. "Okay," she said at last, relaxing. "Sorry. I was worried there for a minute."

I got the feeling Amy had a very serious crush on her family's adult boss, and I wasn't sure how to feel in response. Was I supposed to react badly? Feel sympathetic? Be offended that she'd essentially insulted me? Feel relieved that she seemed to understand?

Suddenly, the door opened and a brunette woman, a maid, was standing on the other side. "Hi, I'm Morrigan Kent," I said quickly. "I'm here to return a gift from Lex Luthor. Can I - can I talk to him?" All this hoopla made the question feel kind of arrogant.

"Yes, of course. Amy!" the woman, who must be her mother, scolded. "It's not your place to greet guests! You and Jeff both, shoo!"

Amy looked embarrassed and the silent Jeff glared at his mother. But he sloped off, taking his sister with him.

"I'm sorry about them. They can be a little -" Mrs Palmer began in embarrassment.

"Don't worry about," I said, shaking my head. "I'd just like to return the gift."

"Certainly. Right this way. He told me specifically to invite you in if you came by." She stepped aside to let me enter.

The inside was as magnificent as the outside. Sweeping staircases, wood-paneled walls, stained glass windows, plush carpets, a chandelier. I'd never been in a house this amazing. I walked slowly into the center of the entrance hall, staring around myself, feeling very small.

Mrs Palmer went in the direction of the Great Hall and stood in the doorway. "Mr Luthor," she said, "Miss Morrigan Kent is here to see you." I walked behind her. Two people in full fencing gear were dueling in the middle of the Great Hall. They paused, and one took off his mask. It was Lex.

"Mrs Palmer, I've told you a thousand times, just call me Lex," he said politely. He looked surprised and pleased to see me. He put down his gear and began walking toward me.

I was now thoroughly embarrassed. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't think - you must be very busy -" I began backing up.

"No, don't worry about it," he said quickly. "I think Hyke has sufficiently kicked my ass for the day." His blonde female instructor had also taken off her mask and put down her own sword. "Come with me," he told me, and led me away from his maid and his fencing instructor.

As we walked through the entrance hall and up the grand main staircase, I was still staring around myself. "This is amazing," I said quietly, in something close to awe.

"If you're dead and in the market for something to haunt," said Lex scathingly.

"Lex. You live in a mansion. You could at least act a little appreciative," I said dryly.

"Eh. There are better mansions," he said dismissively. "This one's cold, drafty, old fashioned, and gloomy. My father has an obsession with that sort of thing. He calls this the Luthor Ancestral Home. He had it shipped over from Scotland stone by stone."

"He literally paid someone to deconstruct a Scottish castle and rebuild it exactly as it had originally been in rural Kansas?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Yes he did." Lex seemed dryly amused by my expression.

"... Why?" I asked with fervor. "I mean, he built this place all the way out here, but he's never even used it. I remember this place being built. The trucks full of stones drove through town for weeks, but no one ever moved in."

"Oh, my father had no intention of living here," said Lex, giving me an odd look, like this should be obvious. "He's never even stepped through the front door."

"Then why'd he ship it over?"

"Because he could," said Lex matter of factly.

"That… is a horrible reason," I said, pained. "Is that rich person logic? I'm just going to do things to impress people because I can do them? No wonder you all seem so unhappy. Think about all you could have done with that money. You could have gone on a vacation, or built a library, or given it to charity, or even saved it up for later when you really needed it for something."

Lex was staring at me.

I backed up mentally and realized what I'd said. "I - I didn't mean to insult you, sorry," I sighed. "I kind of go on opinionated rants. It's my thing."

"No, don't be sorry. You have intelligent ideas about things and you voice them." Lex sounded kind of impressed. "You're also right. Your idealism is inspiring."

"Most people call it annoying, so thanks." I smiled self deprecatingly.

We walked into a room filled with exercise equipment. There was a fire blazing in the vast stone fireplace. Lex pulled off his white fencing jacket, revealing a long-sleeved black shirt that looked high-end enough that it probably cost more than my entire thrift store outfit put together. He was slim but he obviously worked out, and he glowed with sweat. I remembered what Amy had said about Lex being handsome and looked away uncomfortably.

It was a lot easier to tell when someone had pointed it out to me, and the man hadn't just been in a horrible car wreck and nearly drowned.

Damnit.

There was a bowl of fresh fruit and a selection of beverages on a table, probably carefully placed there by the same servant who had made the fire. Lex put a sweat rag on the back of his neck and took up a water bottle. "How's the new ride?" he said, nonchalant.

"That's why I'm here," I said uncomfortably.

"What's the matter? You don't like it? I can get you a different one -"

"I love it. I can't keep it."

Lex actually put the water down and turned to me, he was so surprised. "... Morrigan, you saved my life. I think it's the least I can do," he said, earnest and a little disbelieving.

"It would be wrong to accept a money reward for saving someone's life," I said evenly. "Is that how you thank all people, Lex? You hand them money?"

"What else should I do?" He sounded so genuinely confused. That was what got me.

"Be kind toward them in the future. Show your gratefulness through actions. Behave differently from now on. Just throwing ideas off the top of my head here," I said.

"So you don't want the car?"

"I want the car. But it would be wrong to keep the car," I clarified.

"... Did your father have anything to do with this?" he asked at last. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I got the feeling he didn't like me."

"My family is a little wary of your family," I admitted. "Particularly your father. We don't - we don't want to get involved in anything," I said at last.

"You feel the apple doesn't fall far from the three?" Lex asked dryly.

"It's not that," I said.

"It's okay. I've been bald since I was nine. I'm used to people judging me before they get to know me."

"No, it's really not that," I clarified. "I'm not lying when I say that. That's actually not it." He looked confused again. "Look, Lex, I'll try to explain this to you. When my family receives money, we like to know it's coming from a good place. We don't have much money, but all the money we do have comes from solid hard work. And we gain a lot of satisfaction and pride from that. We grow organic produce in gardens and orchards, and we milk cows, and we create grain-based cattle feed. That's where all our money comes from. From giving food and milk and animal feed to others.

"I'm not saying you and your father don't work hard, Lex. I'm not saying that at all. But the place your money comes from… I've got to be honest, even people in Smallville are aware it's a pretty dark place.

"And that same money was used to buy that car. That's why I don't want it. I'm sorry, I hope I haven't offended you. I came here because I wanted to avoid offending you. I wanted to give you back the gift in person, and thank you for your thoughtfulness. But I can't take that car.

"I also meant what I said earlier. I don't need a reward for saving your life. I just did the right thing. I wasn't about to let you die."

Lex just stood there, like he wasn't sure how to take this.

"And yeah, my parents have their suspicions about your father teaching you his business practices," I admitted. "But I'm of the personal opinion that not everyone has to turn out like their parents, or even like their parents. So I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt until you show me otherwise."

I put the keys on the table next to the fruit.

"Thank you," I said, and turned to leave.

"Morrigan, do you believe a person can fly?" The voice came suddenly from behind. I turned back around to find Lex staring at me very strangely.

"Sure," I said, confused. "In an airplane."

"No, I'm not talking about that," he said intently. "I'm talking about soaring through the clouds with nothing but air beneath you."

"Do I believe someone can just leap up and start flying through the clouds?" I asked skeptically. "Maybe in some sort of cosmic miracle. But ordinary people can't fly, Lex."

"I did," he said, eyes gleaming.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head?" I confirmed, only half teasing.

"It was after the accident, when my heart stopped. It was the most exhilarating two minutes of my life. I felt carried by a pair of warm arms, and I felt totally safe. I flew over Smallville, and for the first time, I didn't see a dead end. I saw a new beginning." He smiled into my surprised expression. "Thanks to you I have a second chance. We have a future, Morrigan. And I don't want anything to stand in the way of our friendship."

"... Well, my parents don't decide who I'm friends with, Lex," I said at last. "I do."

"Excellent." He backed away in satisfaction. "That's all I needed to know."

I paused, and smiled wryly. "Lex, you don't make many friends, do you?"

"No," he admitted. "That's not the kind of world I come from."

"But you want to make friends with me?"

"I feel… better around you. Safe," he admitted. "I just - I get the instinct I can trust you."

"Well, that's good, because you can," I said.

"But what made you think I don't make many friends?" he asked.

"Well," I said, amused. "True friends take the time to get to know each other. And they do fun things together just because they want to. You don't just… decide someone's your friend, and declare it. That's not really how it works. True friendship forms over time together."

"So you want to do things together?" he guessed. "I can arrange that. Take your pick. Concerts, shopping trips, sports matches, trips to foreign places, fancy restaurants, private planes, helicopters -"

He stopped because I was laughing softly.

"What?"

"That's not exactly what I meant," I admitted. "That all sounds great. But I'm not really that kind of person. Think diners, pearls, lilies, that sort of thing. I'm not really the diamonds, roses, fancy restaurants kind of girl. I was thinking more… we could order pizza and play videogames together. You know, hang out. Talk. Get to know one another. Maybe go to the movies."

He looked puzzled, but at last he smiled. "Well," he said dryly, "this is your area of expertise, not mine. I've never had many friends. And I've especially never been friends with a girl before."

"You've never had a girl friend?" I asked disbelievingly.

"I've had a girlfriend?" he clarified.

"But… just a friend who's a girl…?"

"Never," he admitted.

"Okay," I said, smiling, "then we have a lot to work on. So, friends are supposed to get to know each other. What are your hobbies? What do you do for fun, relaxation, enjoyment?"

"I… don't really do that kind of thing."

"Oh, come on," I said. "Everyone has something."

"I don't really know what to say," he admitted. "Fencing, polo, fast cars, Scotch, boxing, reading…"

"Reading?"

"I'm fascinated by history - classical literature, culture," he admitted. "It was a big part of my private education growing up. I think we have a lot to learn from the past."

"Okay, that's a start," I said. "You said you don't like the way the mansion looks. What kind of look do you prefer?"

"I like the more modernist style," he said. "Black chrome, stainless steel. No one's ever asked me that before."

"Really?"

"No one's cared," he said, without thinking I believe, because his eyes widened in surprise and then he turned the tables on me. "What about you?" The surprise was gone. Magically, his expression was smooth and implacable again. Here was a man who had become an excellent actor.

I thought of the way he'd assumed I wasn't telling him the full truth. Or the way he'd assumed throwing money at me would make me like him. That saddened me, a little.

So I started talking about myself. About my favorite rock bands, the electric guitar and singing, astronomy, robotics, video games, politics and the school newspaper, my interest in roller derby (I did not mention I was currently lying about my age and doing it), the old car I was trying to fix up, my friends, my family and their farm, my more tomboyish experiences with fishing and sports, baking apple pies in the kitchen with my Mom, going to Church. I talked about books and we got into a whole conversation on our respective favorites.

I talked about my job. "I work at The Beanery," I said, "as a waitress and barista. It's a little alternative coffee place."

"Is that why you dress like that?" he asked, pointing.

I blushed. "There's a guy at school," I admitted slowly when he looked curious.

And he smiled. "You thought your old look could use some updating," he guessed.

"Pretty much. I used my waitressing money to go on a shopping spree with my cool alternative community college student coworker. We went to thrift stores. She insisted this would look great on me."

"You know, I could buy you -"

"Lex, I just gave you back a car. We talked about this." But I was more amused than anything.

"Alright, alright." He raised his hands. He was smiling himself, something I had already noticed he did not to do too terribly often. "It was just a suggestion."

I laughed. There was a warm silence for a moment.

"So," I said, "I have to go. But I'll give you my phone number. You can text me and ask to hang out, or you can meet me during my shifts at The Beanery. I work Tuesdays and Thursdays from two o'clock to six o'clock. Just for some extra spending money. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And it's just a friendship. No gifts, no debts, no complications. No strings attached."

"Got it. That actually sounds… very refreshing," he admitted.

"Excellent," I said. I liked the feeling that I could introduce a bit of normality into the life of a guy who did not seem to have much of it. A little shot of happiness. "I'll see you later, okay? I can let myself out."

I smiled and turned, going through the door and leaving him gazing after me.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Chloe, Pete, Emily, and Lana accosted me the next day after school - the afternoon before the big homecoming madness. "You're not going to believe what we found," Chloe insisted, and they led me to the school library. "So, former Smallville High jocks keep turning up all over town with heavy electric shock injuries. There have been three this week."

"Which is especially bizarre in a town where crime almost never happens," I commented. "It sounds like it's all the work of one person."

"Exactly," said Lana. "So we were at the scene of the third shock yesterday, for the school newspaper… and, well -"

"I noticed a weird looking guy in the crowds," said Pete. "Looked about our age. I didn't recognize him, which is weird, because my family's lived here for six generations and I know pretty much everybody in town. And especially everyone in school. I mean -"

"It's not a big school," I agreed, nodding. "Yeah. So?"

"We had Chloe take a picture of him," said Emily intently. "And then we did some research."

"His name is Jeremy Creek. This is a picture of him twelve years ago." Chloe plunked a Smallville High yearbook down in front of me, pointing to a photo of a skinny, pale young kid with straw-colored hair. "This is the picture we took yesterday." She pointed at her computer screen. It was… the exact same kid. He hadn't even aged. He looked like he was trying to blend in with the crowds.

"I said it must be a kid who looks like him," said Lana.

"I said Jeremy Creek must have had a child," said Emily.

"And my money was on the evil twin theory," finished Pete. "Till we checked with missing persons."

"Jeremy Creek disappeared from the Kansas State Infirmary a few days ago, where he'd been in a coma for twelve years," said Chloe seriously. "They say he suffered from massive electrolyte imbalance. That's why he hasn't aged a day."

"So he just… randomly woke up, got up, and walked away without anyone noticing?" I asked dubiously.

"There was a huge electrical storm and the hospital's generator went down," said Emily, shaking her head.

"When it came back on, Jeremy was gone," said Lana, looking troubled. "Chloe has a theory. A really creepy theory. She says -" Lana swallowed. "She says the meteor rock that fell all over town twelve years ago causes mutations. That the electrical storm charged Jeremy up, and now he can use electrical attacks on other people."

"Wait - how did Jeremy come into contact with meteor rock?" I asked, confused.

"Jeremy Creek was chosen as that year's freshman Scarecrow," said Pete grimly. "And as you know, when you're chosen as Scarecrow -"

"You're stripped down to your boxers and strung up in a field," I said slowly, disturbed. "Yeah."

Emily handed me a printout of a news story. Comatose Boy Found in Field, Twenty Yards from Meteor Strike, read the headline.

"That's when he fell into his coma," said Emily. "Think about it. The jocks are always the ones who carry out the Scarecrow tradition. And all these victims were senior jocks -"

"When Jeremy was a freshman," Chloe finished. "This is not an isolated incident." Her eyes were firm. "I have a website full of hundreds of weird freak mutations around Smallville since the meteor strike to prove it."

She pulled up the website for us. Wall of Weird, read the headline for the page. And you could click on, literally, hundreds of articles. From three-headed calves to mysterious murders and disappearances.

I stared, disturbed. So the meteor rock didn't just affect me, giving me allergy symptoms when I was around it. It also affected humans - by mutating them, warping their brains and bodies.

"Maybe it's a good thing you don't wear that necklace anymore," I told Lana.

Guilt had filled me. I was responsible for all this. I had brought it here. I wished I could find a way to stop it - I felt like I had a duty to, in some weird way.

"So what do we do with this?" Emily asked worriedly. "Do we call the police?"

"With a theory as crazy as this and no proof?" Pete asked disbelievingly. "They'd call the asylum for us."

"They'd think we were delusional," I agreed clinically, still staring seriously at the screen. "... I don't know what to do," I admitted after a moment. "I don't know what we're supposed to do with this information. Unless we see him or another victim turns up. We don't even know where Jeremy Creek is."

As we were walking back out of the library to prepare for homecoming, Lana looked downcast.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"... I was up there on that news site," she said, depressed. "The day my parents were killed, I was photographed crying in a stupid little fairy princess Halloween costume. I was pasted across the national cover of Time magazine. Heartbreak In the Heartland, they called it. I know Chloe didn't mean to be insensitive, but…"

"But it still hurt," I said sympathetically. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"What did you do?" she asked rhetorically.

Everything, I thought.

"I mean, I was right there next to the three-headed calves. Sometimes it feels like all I'll ever be is a crying little girl in a fairy princess costume," Lana admitted, depressed.

"I don't see you that way," I said softly.

"I know, Morrigan." Lana smiled at me wearily. "You're the only one who doesn't. Even Emily… everybody else treats me different. It's why I always liked you."

"Yeah, well - I lost a home too." I shrugged. "It just makes sense."

"You never talk about your parents," she said curiously.

"I don't know anything about them," I answered truthfully. "I don't even remember what they looked like." And she fell silent.

* * *

I went to the homecoming football game that night with my friends, sitting in the bleachers and explaining football to Emily, Chloe, and Justin. Chloe and I argued over whether or not football was a waste of school resources - Chloe insisted they were, but I had to defend the football I'd always watched with my Dad.

Smallville won, partially thanks to quarterback Whitney, and Lana cheerleaded off to the side, and they met and went in for a kiss at the end, and pretty much everyone knew they were going to be crowned Homecoming King and Queen.

Justin slipped his hand quietly into mine as we stood for the cheering standing ovation, and I smiled, and couldn't say I minded.

Then we all went home to get dressed for the dance. Emily came over to my house, as her mother had died - so we got to have a girly bonding moment getting ready for the dance together, and Emily really was a nerdy, enthusiastic sweetheart in the best way - and my Mom took care of helping us both get dressed up in my room. She took care of Emily first, who went downstairs, and then she took special care with me.

I was wearing an old vintage blue dress of my Mom's from her own high school years. We curled my black hair and fluffed it, and I put on ruby red lipstick. I had decided to go for the classic look.

I smiled at myself in the mirror. I looked… pretty, I decided. Feminine for once. And I actually kind of liked it.

My Mom smiled at me in the mirror. "Now that's more like it," she said.

I appeared at the top of the stairs, and as I walked down my Dad had eyes only for me. "Oh, honey, you look beautiful," he said, his eyes shining, and I smiled and ducked my head, a little shy.

Justin and Dustin came by to pick up me and Emily, both in cars, and my Dad took Justin into the other room and sat him down for a "talk."

"Come on, Dad!" I complained, rolling my eyes.

"We'll just be a minute," he said firmly, and then they went into the sitting room and shut the door. I was pretty sure the shotgun was going to be involved in the talk. Justin came back out looking a little bit wide eyed and a bit paler, but he slipped my garter on and - after the mandatory hundred pictures my mother took of me and Justin, and then of me, Emily, Justin, and Dustin - we got in the car.

"Sorry about my Dad," I said immediately. "He can be a little overprotective."

"He, uh - he talked a lot about respect. And the fear of God," said Justin, uncomfortable. I winced.

All the same, it felt amazing going to the dance with a boy in his very own car. I was a bit giddy. We got to the auditorium, which was lit with fairy lights, and met up with our friends, some of whom were popular enough that soon enough there was a huge crowd around us. It was a little overwhelming.

Justin at last smiled, took my hand, and led me out onto the dance floor. We began dancing, and of course I was clumsy and awkward and I immediately messed up. I kept stepping on his feet. I was also a little taller than him.

Finally, we looked up and laughed a little, dorkily.

"Why don't we try this," said Justin uneasily, and we just swayed in one spot along to the beat. Then he leaned over and kissed me, suddenly. It was my first kiss, and it was wet and awkward and teenage and wonderful.

He pulled back, checking my face, and I smiled, a genuine smile that lit up my whole expression. He grinned back. I think that was the moment when I became human and demystified for him.

We meandered our way over to the snack table. Emily and Dustin were dancing in two entirely different ways, Emily wanting to be traditional but trying to keep up with Dustin's wild showing off. Chloe and Pete were having the time of their lives laughing and dancing a dance from an era completely out of step with the current music. Lana and Whitney were crowned homecoming king and queen, and we all clapped and cheered, and just as Lana and Whitney were beginning their romantic slow dance alone on the dance floor, gazing dreamily into each other's eyes -

Felice Chandler walked by and "accidentally" dumped fruit punch all over my dress. I stood there, dripping wet, and all the noise ground to a halt, and everyone stared at me, and Justin's eyes were huge, and it was terrible.

"Oops. Sorry," Felice simpered, and there was some giggling from a few of her friends on the dance floor behind her.

And I tried not to get teary as I wondered why - why, when Lana was homecoming queen - why Felice Chandler always chose to pick on me.

Right at that moment, the sprinklers went off.

"Someone playing a prank," I said as everyone shrieked. "I'll go turn them off!" And, my tears blinding me, I hurried out the side door, barely noticing Justin belatedly calling after me. I needed some air. Felice had just ruined my mother's perfect vintage hand-me-down dress.

I walked outside - and someone was fiddling around in the electrical box. He turned around. It was Jeremy Creek.

Water. Electricity. Shit.

Jeremy ran at me - which was good, because it meant the others were temporarily safe - and grabbed me, coursing electricity through my body. I felt a pleasant buzz and absolutely nothing happened.

I swung out a heel and kicked Jeremy in the stomach with my true strength, all the way across the road to the auto shop and into a car.

"Why are you doing this?!" I called. "Those people in there never did anything to you!"

"There's another Scarecrow out in that field tonight, you know. His name's Greg Arkin," said Jeremy, his eyes wide and crazed. Greg Arkin. The bug obsessed kid with the glasses and the acne? I felt a surge of pity. "And I realized - it will never stop. It will never stop. Not until the entire town, the entire place, is destroyed!"

"My home isn't perfect, but I won't let you hurt it!" I shouted.

Jeremy got in the car and put it in gear, surging it at me and attempting to run me over. I was smashed, without much pain, into a wall that had an emergency hydrant attached to it. The car, with me in front of it, burst through the wall, busting the pipe. Water leaked into the car, and Jeremy sizzled and writhed as he was electrocuted by his own power.

When the electricity had faded away, I yanked the truck through the rest of the wall and tore open the door of the car. Jeremy - lifted his head, looking confused. He had aged back to normal.

"Who are you?" he muttered groggily, slurring. "Where am I?"

The second electrical attack had taken back his powers, returning him to normal.

People had heard the commotion and were running out to meet us. "Morrigan, what happened?!" Justin had rushed over to me and taken my arm; my friends followed him.

"Jeremy Creek - he attacked me with electricity - he tried to run me over -" was all I could manage.

Justin took me into his arms and hugged me, rubbing my wet hair softly. "You're okay now," he murmured. "Everything's going to be okay." I relaxed into the false comfort.

False, because in that moment I knew. Everything was not going to be okay. It was my duty to save people from these meteor infected I had caused.

And that was exactly what I was going to dedicate myself to do.

* * *

A long line of cars full of my friends drove me home from the dance, Justin in the driver's seat beside me, holding my hand over his heart. He gave me a quick kiss, we grinned dorkily at each other, and then I got out of the car and headed back into my house. My friends honked on my way in, and I smiled and waved to let them know everything was okay. Then I walked inside.

"Morrigan! What happened?!" My parents stood from the dinner table where they were having tea, seeing my appearance.

I smiled sheepishly, and told them what had happened. The full story, the one I could only tell them. We sat around with warm tea, me wrapped in a blanket, in the aftermath. For the first time all night, I could relax.

"Well, Morrie," said my father. "I worry about this dedication, but at the same time I'm proud of you. I'm sorry we kept this from you for so long. I - my Dad didn't tell me he had cancer until he was nearly dead. That telescope you have was a parting gift. I came down one morning and there it was. That was when I got the news.

"I always promised myself I'd never keep something like that from my children." He frowned, troubled. "But I learned later - it's not always that easy."

"It's okay, Dad," I said. "You thought you were doing what was best." And I realized to my own surprise that I actually did forgive him.

"Now." My mother stood, looking over the dress critically. "The punch will wash out with some stain stick. And a little water never hurt anything. You can keep that dress - and the garter. To remember the night by."

I smiled, and she smiled back. "Thanks, Mom."

"So, Morrie." My Dad looked at me. "Are you okay? Really?"

I thought about it and smiled. "Can I answer that in about five years?"

My Dad chuckled. "Fair enough."

"Mom, Dad." My parents paused and looked over at me in surprise. "I'm glad you were the ones that found me."

My parents smiled. "I told your Dad the very first time we found you, Morrigan," said my mother. "The truth is, we didn't really find you at all. You found us."

I'd found my home. And maybe it wasn't my original home. Maybe it wasn't all part of the plan. Maybe I didn't always feel like I fit in. But this was my home, and these humans were my people.

And I would protect and love them just as if they were my home planet.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

I walked up to my room after the homecoming dance, and found a strange box on my bed. It was a small gift, wrapped in pretty paper and tied with a bow. Curious, I opened it up - and a mass of colorful butterflies flew out, fluttering around my head.

It was beautiful, but at the same time it was also very strange.

"Mom? Dad?" I called uncertainly, and they rushed upstairs. They stopped, staring, in the doorway. "This is the weirdest thing I have ever asked someone, but did you put a box of butterflies on my bed?" I smiled in bewilderment.

"No, honey," said my Mom in surprise. "And as far as we know, no one else has entered the house all night."

"At least, not through the front door," I realized slowly, troubled.

A box of butterflies was a very harmless thing to leave in somebody's bedroom, but how had it gotten there? Just in case, with a creepy feeling, I shut the window curtains before taking off my garter and my dress.

* * *

That night, I had dreams about Justin. Memories morphed into each other, from the way he'd held my hand at the football game to our awkward, laughing dance and our kiss on the dance floor to my hand over his warm, beating heart on the drive home in his car.

"Morrigan Autumn Kent! We're leaving for the farmer's market in fifteen minutes and you haven't done your chores yet!"

(I could do six field hands' worth of farm work in ten minutes. It was why my parents never had to hire anybody.)

I woke up - and stared. I was… floating. Floating above my bed. I thought back to what I'd been dreaming about. I felt a rush of happiness and I floated higher.

I… floated when I was happy?

"Mom, Dad, you might want to come see this," I called, my eyes big. They came upstairs to my bedroom immediately, a bit spooked after last night - and stopped in the doorway. "I can fly," I said with false calm, my face pale. "I think it happens when I think of something happy."

"Can you… can you get down?" my father asked disbelievingly at last.

I thought of going back down to my bed, and moved slowly down with a soft landing on the checkered covers with a thump.

"... What is happening to me?" I asked, staring up at my parents. "I'm a little scared. When will the new powers stop?"

"I don't know, honey," said my father at last, running a hand through his hair. "As soon as you start breaking the law of gravity, we're definitely in uncharted territory."

"But we'll figure it out together," said my Mom, sitting down on the bed beside me. "We'll just take each thing and master it as it comes. There's no reason this has to ruin your cover as an ordinary human. You know how to keep yourself down on the ground, we've already seen that."

I nodded, becoming calmer. "Just don't expect me to start flying anytime soon," I said. They looked at me curiously. I smirked, amused at the irony. "The alien who can fly is afraid of heights."

* * *

Justin met us at the farmer's market; he was trying to get into my father's good graces by helping out at our produce stall. We set up our produce, and when no one was looking I shoved the nail for the Kent Organic Produce sign into the stall post with my thumb.

"Now. You over there. You over there." My father pointed at two completely opposite ends of the produce stall.

"Dad," I sighed.

"It's alright. Thanks, Mr Kent," said Justin ingratiatingly, and he went to his assigned place. My Dad stared at him, as if trying to find something wrong with this. Then he humphed and stalked off. My Mom ducked her head, trying to hide her amusement. I looked over at Justin and he smiled and winked.

Our friends came by shopping in the farmer's market, stopping by our stall to say hi to us. I sold countless rounds of produce to passing customers. It was a peaceful, sunny day in Smallville, Kansas.

"Hey, Morrigan." I looked around. Lex was standing there.

"Lex," I said in surprise. "You don't seem like the farmer's market type. No offense."

"There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about," he said, seeming troubled, and he led me away. "I was driving home last night and I heard someone yelling for help out in a field. I went out with a flashlight to go look, and there was some naked bespectacled kid strung up to a post out there. He ran away before I could ask him his name. Said he had something to do. You would still have been at the homecoming dance."

I winced, looking away.

"Morrigan, is this a regular thing?" he asked seriously, looking slightly disturbed. "Because that was some serious Children of the Corn level stuff last night. You have no idea how creepy it was finding him in the middle of a pitch black field. Even the Romans saved tying people to posts for special occasions; the kid could've died out there."

"There's this hazing ritual called the Scarecrow tradition," I said slowly. "Every year, a nerdy freshman boy is selected by the jocks, taken out to Reilly Field, stripped down to his boxers, and hung up in the field like a scarecrow. He's left there all night. It always happens right before the big Homecoming game, near Halloween. And that kid… I think it might have been Greg Arkin. He's the science reporter for The Torch and he has a big bug obsession. People call him Bug Boy. I've always felt a little sorry for him."

Lex's eyebrows had risen. "So much for the ideal of the idyllic small town," he said at last.

"Morrigan, you're needed back at the stall." I turned around to find my father standing there, glaring flatly.

"Mr Kent! It's good to see you!" said Lex with false cheer, sticking out his hand for a handshake.

At last, suspiciously, my Dad shook it. "Lex," he muttered begrudgingly, and went back to the truck to remove more crates of produce.

Probably to my father's irritation, Lex followed me back to the stall, hands in his pockets. "At least I got a handshake this time," he said, amused. "So is that the guy you were talking about?" He smirked and nodded to Justin.

I blushed, smiled, and nodded. "He was my date at the dance last night," I admitted.

Lex walked up to Justin. "Lex Luthor," he said, sticking out a hand. "I'm a friend of Morrigan's." In a surreal state of bewildered delight, Justin shook hands with a celebrity. "I heard you're Morrigan's boyfriend." Justin blushed, grinned, nodded sheepishly. "You're a lucky man," said Lex evenly, smiling slightly, hands back in his pockets.

I looked over, and found a strange guy staring at us, half ducked behind a stall. I looked at him in surprise for a moment - and then recognized him. That was Greg Arkin. But he'd undergone some sort of weird overnight transformation. His glasses were gone, as was his acne, his brown hair slicked back.

"Greg!" I called, curious. "You want to stop skulking and come talk to us?"

Greg paused, and then ducked farther behind the stall shyly. "I'll be right back," I said, and walked over to him. "Greg, I heard about the Scarecrow thing," I said sympathetically. "I'm so sorry. It's horrible, what they did to you."

"Yeah," said Greg, looking down, nodding, shuffling his feet. "It was awful." His head perked up. "I got you this," he said, and shoved it awkwardly into my hand. It was a little stained glass butterfly ornament, hung from a car's rearview mirror. "For that car you told me you were fixing up," he said.

"You remembered," I smiled. "Thank you so much." Greg and I knew each other vaguely through the school paper, and also through Pete, who used to be Greg's best childhood friend. "It's beautiful."

"Did you know the average butterfly only lives for eight hours?" he said brightly.

"Do you know, it's funny, I've been encountering butterflies a lot lately," I said, amused.

"So is… is Gaines your boyfriend now?" Greg nodded to Justin. "What is Lex Luthor doing here?"

"Justin and I are dating," I said, smiling and blushing, pleased. "Lex is here as a friend. I saved his life and he took an interest in me." I shrugged.

"You're an interesting person. In a good way!" Greg added quickly. "Hey, look, Morrigan… I'm having some trouble with my homework. That math homework and that literary analysis essay in English - they're kicking my ass."

"And you know math and obscure literature are my two areas of expertise, so you'd like some tutoring," I guessed. "Is that what you were too shy to ask about?"

"Yeah," Greg admitted, nodding.

"Well," I said. "I have some free time on Wednesday afternoon. I know the math assignment isn't due till Friday and the literary analysis essay isn't due till Monday. How about three o'clock in the library? Is that okay?"

"Well, I was thinking we could just go back to my place -" he said, faux casual.

I smiled tightly, uncomfortable. "Library might be easier," I said, pushing back subtly.

"Great. Then it's a date," said Greg decisively.

"In a… figurative sort of way, yes," I agreed cautiously. He watched me walk back toward the stall with Justin and Lex and my parents.

* * *

I got into the truck with my parents, Lex got into his car, and Justin got into his. We were driving down a dusty back road in a line toward home after the farmer's market - and suddenly a huge blur of dark speed flung itself from the trees and slammed into Lex's and Justin's cars. They flipped over - I screamed out - and the blur was gone.

Our truck screeched to a halt and I ran in a zip of speed toward Justin and Lex, not even caring if they were still conscious. I pulled them safely out of their cars by ripping off the doors - I was carrying them away - a gas leak had started a fire and I sensed a great explosion - I threw Justin and Lex to the ground and flung my body over them, protecting them from the blast -

I saw red and gold and orange flow all around me, felt warmth lick my skin, but no pain. Then the flames retreated and I looked up. The area all around me was scorched, but I was unharmed, and so were Justin and Lex beneath me. My parents ran over, calling out my name, my Dad reached out toward me - and retracted his hand, hissing.

I'd absorbed all the heat, but was somehow unharmed. I was flame retardant.

I got to my knees quickly and felt over the unconscious Lex and Justin's bodies. "Call an ambulance," I gasped out. "But I think they're alright."

I would visit them at the hospital later, bearing treats and gifts for their medical stay, but I gave no hint of what had actually happened. I pretended to everyone that I had pulled Lex and Justin out of the way of the explosion in time.

Who, after all, would have believed the truth? That I'd survived an explosion and hadn't even caught on fire?

"I'm lucky you were there," Lex said wryly. "Again."

Flying and flame absorption. Two more abilities to add to the list. Despite myself… I still felt alienated from others. Frightened. More than that… what had that dark blur been?


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Justin and I went antiques shopping along Main Street one afternoon for our second date. Justin needed to pick up something for his mother, so we turned it into a little adventure, grabbing a bite to eat and then walking around shopping to celebrate Justin being released from the hospital.

"Thank goodness I have you around," he told me, smiling sheepishly. "I mean, you have a habit of saving people's lives and -"

"Justin, lookout!" I yanked him back from the road just in time for Principal Kwan's car, carrying his son, to come screeching to a halt. The guy had been about to run a red light, and he wouldn't have been able to stop in time to keep from hitting Justin.

Justin let out a huge breath. "See what I mean?" he said, only half joking. "Excellent reflexes."

* * *

I told my Mom that morning, "Yeah, I'm off. Don't wait up for me, I have a late shift at The Beanery."

"Okay," she said from the kitchen.

After school, I speed ran up to Metropolis with my roller skates. The run there was more comforting than difficult - I even experimented with going off the ground a little bit - and then I'd arrived in the city. It was so different from Smallville's cozy, friendly little buildings - all high sky rises and black pavement and screeching cars and graffiti.

I walked into the cheering, thundering auditorium for my first roller derby competition. My team and I all strapped on helmets and skates, getting together and doing the cheer. Then we waited on the front line -

The alarm sounded and I shot off like a cannon, aggressive to make up for my nerves. I bowled people out of the way, shoving them off to the sides, going faster and faster, never losing in a fight of either speed or strength -

I helped my team win and there was exultant cheering among us at the end, but I asked my coach worriedly, "Did I hurt any of the people I hit?"

"Of course you did, that's what you were supposed to do!" my coach barked. "Lots of bruises and a couple of black eyes, nothing worse than that."

I paused, and smiled. "Thanks," I said. "That's all I needed to know."

The coach shook her head. "You always were a softie, Kent," she said. "But I don't know, when you get out there on that field… you become hard. It's like you're a different person. Nobody wants to mess with you."

* * *

Post release from the hospital by his own private Metropolis doctors, Lex had started inviting me over to talk books and play video games when I drove the weekly produce over to his mansion in the family truck. I would go in the servant's entrance, then be led up to Lex's personal set of rooms - all under the watchful, increasingly resentful, impotent glare of Amy Palmer.

I had a lot of fun with Lex. He was sarcastic, lively, and interesting; he knew a little about everything, but at heart under the sporty rich guy veneer he was a true nerd and I could connect with that. I never felt like he looked down on me or tried to take advantage of me because I was younger. That was nice.

He started inventing ways of getting around my refusal to accept money-related gifts.

He began giving me gifts he'd gotten from his late mother, who he'd apparently been very fond of, gifts he hadn't bought himself - overriding my protests that I could not take anything so precious or treasured. One was a gold watch; another was a beautiful engraved lead box. I kept the precious treasures locked safely away inside my Fortress.

He gave me a packet full of suggestions from his own personal mechanic on ways I could fix up the old Mustang, and soon enough I began driving it back and forth to school.

After he heard Felice Chandler picked on me in school, he threatened to fire her father - who worked at the local plant - if she didn't leave me alone. Felice gave me plenty of fiery glares, but she began avoiding me like the plague. She needed her Dad's money to buy all the tacky pink Prada knockoffs and keep up her Volkswagen Bug.

I told Lex repeatedly that he didn't need to give me things in order for me to like him - that I liked him and enjoyed hanging out with him already - but I think he felt better, more secure, when he got me things. It almost hinted at insecurity, but that appeared absurd in someone so seemingly confident and at ease with himself as Lex Luthor.

He also began visiting The Beanery regularly in the evenings with paperwork, and I would give him the next size up in coffee drinks for no extra charge. I memorized all his favorites and he would just have to name something and I automatically knew everything about how he would like it. "It's sometimes a good thing to be friends with the barista," I teased him.

Greg once walked up to me during my working hours at The Beanery. "Remember," he said, "we have our library meeting tomorrow."

"I know." I smiled. "I haven't forgotten."

He smiled himself, his eyes watchful. "I'm looking forward to it."


	7. Chapter 7

7.

I found Greg at the library after school the next day and sat down at his table. "Okay," I said, all business, "here's what we're going to do. I thought we'd start on the math first, and then move into -"

I paused. Greg's hands were morphing underneath the table. Great pincers were coming out of them; they were writhing, twisting, glowing green.

I looked up and Greg was smirking. His sudden transformation. Meteor rock.

"You attacked Justin and Lex," I realized.

"Come with me where I tell you to or I'll attack everyone in this library - or anyone we come across on the way to where we're going," said Greg.

We had to get to a place with no people. I couldn't show off my powers to everybody in the library.

I stood, falsely calm, glaring, and Greg's hands transformed back into normal human hands again. He led me out of the library, off campus, through town… My mind was racing. Where were we going? What would a meteor infected Greg Arkin want with me?

"Greg," I said as I was led into the forests outside town, "what's going on?"

He suddenly turned around, opened his mouth, and spit something at me. White goo issued from his mouth and entrapped me against the nearest tree. I struggled and looked down in horror - it was a spider's web. A gigantic spider's web.

"I suppose you deserve to know what's happened," Greg said clinically, observing me, "before the mating process."

Mating process?

"My life was miserable, Morrigan," he said. "My father abandoned the family when I was a kid, and after that I grew distant. I stopped talking to Pete, or anybody else. My mother did nothing but criticize me. My only consolation was my bugs, the tanks full of insects I kept in my room -"

"Did they have meteor rock?" I asked suddenly.

He paused and stared at me. "What? What would that have to do with anything?"

"Did they have meteor rock to climb over?" I repeated urgently.

"Yes -"

"Greg, I know what's happened to you. You have to let me help you. Your mind and body have mutated, been warped -" I was speaking quickly now.

"Shut up!" Greg spat, his eyes growing crazed. "I've been freed! You don't understand. I've formed a fascination with you, Morrigan Kent. Your beautiful blue eyes, your body, your smile, your calm, your uniqueness and intelligence, your determination and fiery opinions…" He smiled dreamily. "But you never noticed me. I snuck around after you - videotaping you. Leaving little gifts for you to find. You were a little light in my world."

"You left the butterflies," I realized, my eyes widening. A creepy feeling had filled me. Greg Arkin had been sneaking around after me, taking videos of me?

"Yeah. That was me. It was the night of the homecoming dance. I'd been planning it all along, but then I was… distracted by the Scarecrow incident." He scowled. "I plan on taking care of those jocks after this is all over. But first I needed to deal with you, Morrigan Kent. You were the center of my universe. I even hurried over to leave the gift I'd been planning for you to find after homecoming. I hid in the bushes with my camera, watching you find it. The way your face lit up - it was amazing.

"I went home that night, and my mother had found my videos. She threatened to send me away to military school, and let all the bugs in my room die. I knew I couldn't let that happen, so I snuck out that night with my bugs to free them somewhere safe. I crashed my car, and the bug containers smashed open, and the bugs attacked me -

"And I don't know what changed, but it was wonderful. All of a sudden I felt great. My acne was gone, I no longer needed my glasses, and all of a sudden I was filled with the powers of insects, with primal instinct. My first order of business was to kill my mother," he said coldly, as I stared in silent horror, trapped in the spiderweb against the tree. "She is cocooned inside my room. But really, I wanted you, Morrigan Kent. I tried taking care of the other men in your life first. When that didn't work, I knew you would never let go of them - that you'd do anything to save them.

"So it's come to this.

"I really didn't want it to end this way, Morrigan. But sometimes the most beautiful relationships aren't meant to last. I'm going to take you to the treehouse my father built for me, right before he abandoned our family, and there I am going to mate with you. I will then kill you. Nature dictates, after all. I have finally been given the freedom to take what I want - and what I want is you, Morrigan Kent. Whether you want me back or not.

"After you're dead, Gaines and Luthor are next on the list. And then as my final act, I shall kill the jocks who strung me up in that field."

"That's not how this is going to go," I spat, glaring.

"Oh?" He was languid, idly amused. "And what are you going to do to change it?"

I tore suddenly through the spiderweb and flew at him - he didn't manage to get away in time because he was so surprised.

Joke was on him. Out here I could use my powers as freely as I wanted to. And I was a lot stronger than some sticky spiderweb.

I landed on top of Greg, punching him in the face and kicking him in the groin - that felt really satisfying, by the way - but Greg pushed me off of him in a surprising feat of superhuman strength, and ran away with superhuman speed. I sprinted after him, my true speed showing itself.

"Looks like I'm not the only one with secrets!" he tossed over his shoulder. "Should I tell everyone?!" He grinned.

"After I tell everyone how batshit insane you are?!" I called back. "Who'll believe you?!"

Greg jumped a chain link fence, and entered a warehouse - the old Creekside Foundry. The treehouse was nearby. I could see it. So why would he go to the Foundry?

I jumped the fence after him and entered the warehouse - and I saw green meteor rock lining the ground. I got weaker and weaker, feeling sicker and sicker with every step.

Suddenly, a huge metal pipe hit me from behind, sending me landing amongst the meteor rocks. I started feeling extremely nauseous, having trouble breathing; I watched my veins bulge green. I'd never gotten such a concentrated dose before.

Greg stood above me with the pipe, smiling darkly.

"I taped you and Lana talking once," he said. "You're allergic to green meteor rock, right?

"Hey, Morrigan. Did you know the Buffalo ant can lift 30 times its own body weight?"

He picked me up full-body, and threw me. I landed, and crawled brokenly into a concrete shell, trying to hide.

I could hear Greg stalking around the warehouse behind me, calling out mockingly. "Morrigan? Morrigan, where are you? Come on out! I just want to play. Morrigan? Come out!"

But all of a sudden - I was feeling better. The green in my veins was fading, the veins returning to normal. I looked up at the concrete shell. It couldn't be concrete that was blocking the meteor rock from affecting me. Concrete was too common.

But the shell was lined - with lead.

Greg was still shouting, coming closer and closer. "Give it up, Morrigan! You can't fight natural law! Only the strong survive. I'm stronger than you and you're my mate. In natural terms, that means you are subject to my whims!"

I jumped out and slammed Greg up against the concrete, lead-lined slab. As long as I stayed here, I should be okay. "I'm not subject to any man's whims, you piece of shit!" I spat, angry and afraid. Then I threw him, full-body, the way he had done to me.

He landed against a support beam and as he stood up, he accidentally pulls a lever next to him for purchase, hurt and weakened. I gasped and cried out - but not in time. A large piece of construction equipment landed on top of Greg. Even as I watched, thousands of little bugs crawl out from under it. Greg was still.

I stared at him with an eerie feeling. I felt like I should have experienced a huge sense of loss, but I didn't. Nothing was lost to the world that day. Greg may have been a great little kid and a good friend to Pete, but that all probably disappeared when his Dad left the family.

I didn't feel bad for potentially killing a man who had tried to rape me and who had murdered his own mother.

Stumbling, gasping for breath, I made it back out of the foundry until I found clean air again. My powers returned to normal, and I breathed deep.

* * *

I called the authorities on Greg, making it sound like I'd run into the foundry, pushed him away with human strength, and then he'd accidentally pulled the lever. I told them he'd tried to rape me, and he'd killed his mother, and even about his strange powers - though I pretended to know nothing about them.

"He kept raving about how I had powers just like him," I gasped out, playing the shy, gawky nerd. "He was a complete lunatic. Totally delusional."

The authorities ate it up. "Don't worry, Miss Kent. Where this boy's going, you don't have to worry about him anymore," said the policeman who took my interview.

They sent him, as they'd sent Jeremy, to Belle Reve Asylum. He'd turned out to be severely injured, not dead.

* * *

I sat down with my parents. "I've decided if I'm going to play the convincing bumbling nerd, I've got to look the part," I said. "I've already talked it over with Jeremy and he said a new look would be just fine with him. I only dressed like this to impress him, and now that time is over.

"I like this look. But it doesn't exactly scream innocence. If I'm going to be taking care of meteor infected, I have to look like someone who could literally stumble her way into a horrible situation like an idiot. If I look like that, and then I act that way around policemen and authorities, it should work out a lot better."

"That's what you got out of this?" my father asked, confused. "Morrigan, shouldn't you be expressing more disturbed feelings?"

I wasn't sure what to say. "I… I keep waiting to feel the way a human would feel in response to this situation. And I just don't," I admitted. "I mean, it was horrifying at the time, but - So I'm just going to go with that. For all I know, my brain could be wired differently."

"So what does this new look consist of?" my mother asked. "Will you act differently, too?"

"Only around policemen and the authorities," I confirmed. "But I'll wear the actual outfit all the time anyway, to normalize it. I want to seem harmless. That way my fellow classmates won't start thinking it's weird if I start getting myself into horrible situations all the time. I'll look like a nerd and I'll fly under the radar."

"Well, I can't say I'm not relieved you won't be dressed up like that anymore," said my mother, referring to my current outfit.

I smiled. "Zoe will be disappointed, though."

"Screw Zoe," said my father shortly, and I laughed.

* * *

My first order of business was to give myself square dark glasses. I cut off a piece of metal from the spaceship I'd come in, and carved the metal into a frame for spectacles. "I want people to see me as trustworthy and harmless," I whispered to the metal, more on an instinct than anything, and it actually glowed for a moment.

I figured a bit of alien magic couldn't hurt anything.

I put plain panes of glass into each spectacle eye, and then I had myself a pair of fake hypnotic glasses.

To go with my new look, I put my black hair up in a messy bun, and wore figure hugging jeans and reserved, classy sweaters. I thought that was a good compromise between looking good and looking homegrown and innocent.

I told my friends and Justin, "I've finally decided to be me. To stop feeling self conscious of the way I really want to look. I liked the revealing little black outfits, but they just didn't fit my personality." With this last part, I wasn't entirely being untruthful.

Justin smiled and took my hand. "I like it," he said. "The old look was sexy. But the new look is good too, and it fits you better."

I smiled, leaned over, and kissed him. "Good answer," I said warmly. "You're a great boyfriend."

To make it better, my friends agreed with him. And Felice was too afraid to even get near me, let alone make fun of my new appearance. So that was the beginning of my two identities - innocent small-town Morrigan Kent, and another figure - a warrior figure - one I did not yet have a name for.


End file.
